


The Winter Queen

by VictoriaMG



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:48:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23500351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VictoriaMG/pseuds/VictoriaMG
Summary: Suddenly, in the reflection of the mirror, the young woman saw herself breaking, collapsing. She saw the mask she kept in place for so long finally falling, like the marble face of a statue falling apart.Suddenly, she was no longer Alayne Stone, Petyr Baelish's natural daughter.Suddenly, she was no longer a bastard.Suddenly, she was no longer no one.She was again her true self, the self that had suffered and bled so much, the self that had given up ... that she had abandoned so long ago, without thinking twice. The self she had choked and locked in the confines of her mind.She was again Sansa Stark, Winterfell's rightful heir.And she wouldn't give up this time.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, I'm new here, and this is my first story written in English - which is not my mother tongue. So I ask you to be patient with me and be understanding of any mistakes that may come up. I really love Sansa / Sandor ship and I hope to add another story to this community. Hope you like it.

ALAYNE

That night, Alayne dreamed with wolves.  
At first, she did not recognized the gigantic animal, almost as tall as her, with gray fur like slate and golden eyes like the amber from Essos. It was very different from the wolf cub that used to follow her old self, ribbons wrapped around her neck, the silky, well-brushed fur shining silver under the torches of the Great Hall of Winterfell. It was a wild thing, almost part of the damp forest that surrounded her in her dream, and was standing facing her in a threatening way that the sweet Lady had never done before with Sansa.  
Alayne took a step back, but soon froze. It didn't make sense to run from a giant wolf, especially a grown one _ she still remembered how fast the cubs were. Instead, she crouched down, her bare feet freezing against the soggy moss of the forest floor as she knelt and waited, her heart thudding against her chest.  
The animal blinked slowly, then sat up. He blinked a second time, as if he, too, was waiting for something, or someone.  
Then, suddenly, Alayne recognized her, the frighteningly large beast that looked at her so intelligently. She recognized her when the image of another beast_ of a different species_ who also used to look at her in a similar way shone in her memory, her memory long blurred and locked in the back of her mind. A small beast wearing boyish clothes, with tangled hair and huge gray eyes.  
It wasn't Lady. It was Nymeria.  
_ Gods. Nymeria?_ tried Alayne.  
The wolf blinked a third time, which the girl took for a yes.  
_ Nymeria._ she repeated, her voice trembling. Suddenly, her eyes filled with tears, and her throat became tight with emotion. _ Oh, Nymeria.  
The beast walked over to Alayne, who rose and threw herself against her immense terrifying and strangely soft body. Sniffling, the young woman clung to the wolf's soft and familiar fur, which purred in a way she could only interpret as understanding and comforting.  
_ I wish she were here.  
The wolf grunted, and the girl walked away for an instant.  
_ What's it? _ Alayne asked.  
Nymeria turned her attention to the right, where the sun was slowly setting in a frame of shades of gold, red and lavender, where a mountain range revealed a painfully familiar tower construction.  
Alayne shook her head, stepping back.  
_ No, I can not. I'm Alayne. I ... I can't.  
Nymeria roared, looking outraged.  
_ You do not understand. _ she tried to explain, her voice shaking again. _ That is no longer my home. There's nothing there for me ...  
She turned to look at the wolf, but it was too late. Like everything in her former self's life, Nymeria had abandoned her.


	2. Chapter 1

ALAYNE

The preparations for the Festival of the Mother were at full blast at the Nest, with servants sprouting from all corners of the castle, voices shouting orders and instructions in the Great Hall and the smell of flowers ordered from teh Reach perfuming the whole environment. As she walked silently through the still half empty room with Miranda Royce in a flowing dress beside her, Alayne carefully and progressively analyzed the progress.  
_ At this rate, we will have everything ready before the Brothers arrive. _ commented the young woman absently, approaching to analyze an arrangement of flowers especially well done. She touched one of the gardenias. _ The feast is also underway. Do you think it will be enough for this year's holiday, Randa, or is something missing? Maybe I should have hired another lute player ...  
A bubbly laugh interrupted her.  
_ Don't be silly, dear. Everything is exactly as everyone expects._ The other lady paused, looking around with satisfaction. _ Well, maybe they didn't expect that much. The late Lady Lysa was not so talented in organizing such festivities.  
Alayne lowered her head.  
_ You shouldn't say such a thing. At least not that high. Lady Lysa was a very gifted and kind woman. She always kept the Nest in impeccable condition when she was alive. _ she said.  
Miranda snorted.  
_ We certainly have conflicting views of her attributes. _ She commented lightly, linking his slim arm with that of her companion. _ But changing the subject, have you decided on what to wear? I know you've been busy these weeks preparing all of our fun, but you must have had a few hours to sew something. You embroider so beautifully.  
In another world and circumstances, Alayne's old self would have blushed and rejoiced at such a compliment. Now, she just waved a hand.  
_ I am sure that decorated handkerchief do not serve as appropriate clothing, so no. But I have some dresses that I wore little these days, so they should do. _ She answered.  
Carelessness and Alayne made Lady Miranda roll her eyes, turn around and lift a petulant finger.  
_ Now listen to me, Lady Alayne ...  
_ I am not a lady.  
_ ... I consider you a sweet friend, but if you dare to leave your quarters tonight dressed in something similar to an embroidered handkerchief, by the Seven, I swear never to speak to you again.  
For a moment they both stared at each other in silence, expressionless, and then burst out laughing with muffled hands. Taking a deep breath, Alayne assured:  
_ I will get something, don't worry.  
_ Thanks to the Mother for that. _ exclaimed Miranda._ I will meet you in front of my rooms, before the feast?  
_ Of course.  
Lady Miranda kissed his cheek.  
Turning away, he looked her straight in the eye, and calmly said:  
_ See you soon, milady. - And left.  
For an instant, Alayne did not move from her place in the center of the Hall. After a shiver that ran down her spine, however, she turned, looked around and silently withdrew.  
Milady.  
It was not uncommon for Miranda Royce to act spontaneously and warmly, even with servants and people less than her, like Alayne. As the natural daughter of the Lord Protector of the Eyrie, Petyr Baelish, Alayne was cared for and respected, as much as a bastard could ever be, but in the end she was in fact just that - a bastard, with no right to anything or anyone, someone less and submissive to the imposed hierarchy.  
Being called a milady so respectfully, without irony or sarcasm by Lady Miranda ... it reminded her of a lifetime ago, when she used to have and be more than she had and was.  
A time when the snow she saw did not accumulate in the mountains of The Eyrie, but on the ground, like a large, leafy tree of blood-colored leaves that fell on her lap and accumulated like soft hair locks. A time when loving hands braided her own hair, instead of the insensitive hands of servants and handmaids.  
Stopping almost at her bedroom door, Alayne leaned against the side of one of the marble columns that made up the corridor and took a deep breath, twice.  
Alayne Stone. She was Alayne Stone.  
Nobody else.  
She was just a bastard, someone invisible and easily forgettable, someone harmless, innocent ...  
She had to be Alayne Stone.  
For as many times before in her life and the previous one, she had no choice.


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I could barely contain myself, so I continued to write a few more chapters. I apologize for their size_ soon, I'll start writing bigger ones soon. I hope you are enjoying it.

ALAYNE

He came when she was ready, dressed in a dark green velvet gown and with her hair braided up.  
Bowing as always respectfully, Alayne received him after the handmaid who had helped her get dressed opened the door.  
_ My lord father. _ she murmured.  
Smiling, the Lord Protector of the Eyrie stepped forward and patted the young woman's shoulders.  
_ My beautiful lady. You look splendid tonight, as every night I see you. _ praised Littlefinger, his thin lips stretched maliciously and hiddenly. _ How is today? We didn't have the opportunity to speak much. Are you alright?  
She stood up.  
_ Yes, my lord. I am very well.  
_ And the preparations for the Festival, did it keep you very busy? _ He asked.  
_ Yes, but everything went as planned, father. _ answered him.  
Lord Baelish smiled more widely.  
_ I'm sure of it. _ Then, for the handmaid: _ Leave us alone.  
Bowing, the girl obeyed, closing the door behind her. Alayne, in turn, controlled the urge to take a few steps back when Littlefinger approached and kissed her on the lips.  
A kiss between father and daughter was what he called it.  
But Alayne knew men.  
She allowed her cold, damp lips to stick to hers for long moments, but did not return the affection. However, when Lord Baelish retreat, the young woman showed a smile, because whatever happened, he did not like to be rejected.  
_ I am pleased to have organized everything so exquisitely, my dear. It helped me immensely. Have you heard of the arrival of a caravan from The Quiet Isle, I suppose? I hope you have arranged rooms for our guests. _ said Littlefinger.  
She nodded.  
_ The Silent Brothers, yes. Is it true that they don't speak? Nothing? _ Alayne asked, curious.  
Lord Baelish laughed.  
_ Peculiar, but yes. Apparently it is their way of paying penance to the Seven.  
It seemed pointless to Alayne, to pay penance for the price of a whole life, but again, what did that mean for her, who tried to live her life one day at a time? She supposed it was a bit of an exaggeration for some people, like herself, but also a little brave. After all, some people could not live without such luxury. It was enough to look at Littlefinger, who had in his silver tongue and deceptive song. Without both, what would he be now?  
Probably not much.  
_ I have a gift for you. _ He then announced, lifting something he had been holding since he entered, but for which Alayne had not paid much attention.  
She watched as he set a large black velvet box on the bed, decorated with black pearls, and lifted the lid.  
_ Now, I know that it is not the most appropriate thing for a natural daughter to wear, but since you have been so well behaved and competent in your duties, I suppose you deserves a treat this time. Don't get used to it, Alayne.  
Baelish raised the dress with both hands, making it shine softly in the candelabrum light. It was made of rich sapphire silk, with long sleeves and a collar, decorated with silver threads and baroque pearls. It was fair, with a bar that dragged a few inches behind the back, and it matched Alayne's eyes. Looking at him, she realized what he expected of her.  
_ It's beautiful, father. I do not know what to say. I thank you deeply.  
Baelish came over and touched his face.  
_ Yes? Show me that. Tonight.  
The young woman's head snapped up.  
_ I want you to be close to Miranda Royce tonight, all the time. Interact with her. Talk to her. Have fun. I have businesses that need her exactly where she will be tonight: in the Great Hall.  
He stuck out a cold finger and lifted his chin.  
_ Yes, my lord father. _ She replied obediently.  
Petyr Baelish smiled one last time.  
_ This is my girl. _ And turned and left.  
Alayne stared at the door for a long time, until the sound of the window shutters banging open startled her. Turning back, she looked through the rectangle of metal and glass at the high, full moon in the sky and the dotted and shining stars. A cold wind blew gently towards her face, scented with what reminded her of pine and snow. Taking a deep breath, she turned towards the mirror, where she looked for a long moment, while the candles in the room burned.  
The young woman took a moment to compose herself and put on the mask that she was already feeling used to.


End file.
